


take root in my heart, bloom in my mind

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/F, Fluff, no powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Kara. I, uh, own the shop across.” She points outside. Lena follows the direction of it as she reaches to shake Kara's hand. She freezes at the softness of it and at the same time, her brain fizzles as her eyes land on a tattoo parlor.Or an AU where Lena works at a flower shop and doesn’t know her flowers, Kara is a tattoo artist who doesn’t have tattoos, and Lillian is an annoying, overly-supportive mom (and where love is lost and found again)





	take root in my heart, bloom in my mind

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, a huge thank you to my dear friends and beta-readers thefutureisequalaf (tol bean u are a gift!!!!) and alex_frey. Kids, you have no idea how much of this dumb fic was garbage before they worked on it. A big thank you as well to my beta-reader / resident tattooing consultant, Meg :)) 
> 
> Secondly, hello, I’m alive? Here’s the tattoo artist/florist AU which was the winner of some Twitter poll from long ago. Please let me know what you think (please validate me lmao 1/2 jk) thanks bye love yall

× × 

_sa hindi inaasahang_  
_pagtatagpo ng mga mundo_  
_may minsan lang na nagdugtong _  
_damang-dama na ang ugong nito_

(in the unexpected meeting of worlds,  
a fleeting moment of connection lingers) 

_ tadhana _(fate), up dharma down

× × 

“Damn it.”

Lena huffs, struggling to keep the boxes she is holding in her arms as she closes the car door with her hip. She regrets trying to carry all three boxes with a paper bag in one hand, but she is nothing if not determined. Carefully, she takes a step forward and makes her way to the flower shop that is supposed to be her home for the next month or so. She mentally curses her mother. The woman was supposed to come help her with her things—she was the one who _ insisted _she spend the summer here, after all—but of course Lillian had some “book club” she couldn’t get out of that morning. 

“Fucking book club,” Lena mutters. 

A misstep causes her to stumble. She manages to hold onto the boxes in her arms, but the top one slides off the second and Lena squeaks, expecting it to come crashing down, along with whatever things she managed to stuff in it the day before. 

Instead of the crash and the probable mess of seeds and pruning tools, Lena hears a soft, triumphant _ gotcha. _A blonde woman stands in front of Lena on the sidewalk, the box that fell safe in her hands. She is rocking an undercut, short golden locks messy, and Lena finds herself distracted by the warm smile on the stranger’s face and the blue of her eyes behind glasses made brighter by the morning sun. 

“I think you need a little help,” the stranger muses. Lena doesn’t protest. Instead, she gives the woman a grateful smile 

“Thanks,” she says softly. 

The blonde shrugs and easily reaches for the second box in Lena’s arms. Lena lets her take it. “Wow,” the blonde laughs. “This one’s a bit heavy.” 

“Those are um, gardening tools,” Lena clarifies. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no problem,” the stranger grins. Lena feels the warmth of a blush creep down her cheeks and neck, but she only nods as she heads to the door of the shop, still locked. She fishes the keys from her back pocket and unlocks it, then walks in and lets the blonde help her put her boxes on the desk inside. She immediately offers her help for the next ones. Lena doesn’t have the heart to say no, not when the blonde looks so _ sunny _about the whole thing. 

“You’re moving in?” The blonde asks as she carries the last of Lena’s boxes into the shop. 

Lena shrugs, rolling her luggage to a stop behind her. “Something like that,” she explains, albeit vaguely. The blonde laughs. 

“Right, well. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She grins and offers her hand. “I’m Kara. I, uh, own the shop across.” She points her free hand outside. Lena follows the direction of it as she reaches out to take the offered hand. She freezes at the softness of it and at the same time, her brain fizzles as her eyes land on a tattoo parlor.

_ Shit. _

“Um. I’m Lena,” the raven-haired woman replies, dragging her eyes back to the blonde. She looks down at their joined hands before she pulls back quickly, as if burned. It makes her eyes focus on the blonde’s—_ Kara— _feet. “Wait,” Lena furrows her eyebrows. “Why are you barefoot?”

Kara looks down at her own feet as if to check, then wiggles her toes and laughs. “Ah, yeah. I was cleaning up and saw you struggling with your boxes, foresaw an impending disaster, and tried to run as fast as I could. Got here just in time, I think,” she grins proudly. 

Lena blinks owlishly at that, then looks out the tall glass windows of the shop. It’s a narrow two-way street but still a good distance away. “You’re pretty fast,” she notes. 

Kara barks out a laugh, fiddles with her glasses as she looks at the street then back at Lena. “I have pretty long legs,” she says. Lena only quirks an eyebrow at that, amused, and casts a glance at Kara’s legs. _ Well. _ She’s wearing boxers. _ Boxers. _Lena turns red and quickly flicks her eyes up, locking with bright blue ones. 

The blonde coughs. “Right. Um. Well, I’ll let you get settled in,” she says, gesturing back to the door.

Lena nods, not wanting to keep her any longer. That, and she thinks her blush is getting worse by the second. “I—” She slams her mouth shut, not really meaning to speak again, but Kara looks at her intently like she is waiting for her to speak. It takes Lena a full second. “I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.”

_ Joy _ blooms in Kara’s face, a slow smile arching her lips up as she blindly reaches for the doorknob behind her. “I hope not either,” she says, then she is turning and slamming into the shop’s glass door with a loud _ thunk _that makes the shop bell ring. 

Lena gasps. “Are you—”

“I’m fine!” Kara assures, before prying the door open and practically bolting out of the flower shop. Lena thinks she imagines the way she hears Kara mutter _ fucking useless dumbass _under her breath. She laughs breathlessly anyway, like Kara took away all the air in her lungs, and she sighs as she watches the blonde walk into the tattoo parlor across the street. 

Lena groans. She hates it, _ absolutely _ hates it, that her mother is right: Kara _ is _her type. 

Lena sighs as she begins to unpack her boxes, wondering if her mother really did have a book club meeting that morning.

× × 

She had tea with her mother a week ago, just to catch up, at Lillian’s house three or so hours away from Lena’s university. Lena told Lillian about wrapping up her research on plant genetics; all she had left to do was wait for her flowers to bloom."

“You should just come help me at the flower shop,” Lillian brought up. Lena quirked her eyebrow in response. The flower shop was a long-time dream for Lillian; tending the gardens in the backyard had been a hobby all her life, and when she heard the news of a shop vacancy at the district a mere fifteen minutes away from her house, she took it. “There’s a small bedroom above the shop, renovated by the previous tenant, so I’m technically not asking you to move back home.”

Lena shook her head at the disclaimer, amused. Ever since Lionel died, almost seven years ago, and Lex had moved out to make a life of his own, Lillian had understandably wanted to cling to Lena before she did the same. She was twenty-seven, after all, a few years short of getting married if she was interested—a few months, if she acknowledged Lillian’s snarky comments.

“I don’t need of a summer job,” Lena mumbles. “And I’m a biotechnician, not a florist.” 

Lillian rolled her eyes. “It won’t be a summer job,” she defended. “Treat it like a vacation. There’s a greenhouse on the rooftop of the shop. It’s a more conducive place for you to grow your plants there, compared to that barely-lit lab of yours. I’m not a _ biotechnician,” _she said pointedly, “but I do know that your plants need actual sun. And you’ll only help me man the shop when I have book club meetings and such.” 

The younger Luthor stared at her mother, thinly veiled accusation in her gaze. Lillian relented after a while with a shrug and a long sip of her tea.

“There’s a woman there,” Lillian said cryptically. “Could be your type.”

It was Lena’s turn to roll her eyes. “How do you know my type?” She asked, scowling at her mother. It wasn’t the first time this matchmaking conversation was brought up. Sure, she was happy that her mother was supportive of her, but at some point, it had become too much. The constant questions about when she’d date again had vanished, replaced with referrals of random women she knew. _ This _request to “man the flower shop” just to meet a woman was entirely new.

“Tall, good-looking, soft and charming but can definitely kick someone’s ass.” Lillian pursed her lips. “Come to think of it, there might be two of them but you might be more into the blonde one. She owns a tattoo parlor.”

_ “Mom.” _

“I’m just saying,” Lillian shrugged again. “It’s been a while since your break-up with… You know.”

“You can say her name,” Lena said dryly.

“Fine. With Samantha,” Lillian said. “I just want you to be happy. You know, aside from—”

“I swear to god if you say children, I will literally poison your flowers,” Lena said with a tired sigh. Lillian only quietly sipped her tea, like she was waiting for Lena to surrender, and she hated it but her mother was right—she would prefer a greenhouse for her flowers, and a month or two away from university might do her good. How difficult could manning a flower shop be, anyway?

“You don’t even have to consider the woman,” Lillian piped into her thoughts, and Lena grumbled. Oh right, _ the woman _. 

“I’ll be there, but only for the greenhouse,” Lena countered. “And maybe occasionally cover for you at the shop.” She raised an eyebrow. _ “Occasionally.” _

“Deal,” Lillian grinned. 

× × 

The rest of moving in is quiet. Lena doesn’t see Kara again, even when she walks out to take the delivery of the flowering shrubs she had been growing for the past four years of her postgraduate studies. She practically threatens the delivery men to take care with her plants as they carry them to the greenhouse. 

When all is done, Lena would never admit that she had looked over to the tattoo parlor to see if Kara had arrived since the twenty minutes she last checked. 

She hadn’t.

× × 

Later that night over dinner, after her mother finishes talking about the awful city regulations on small- and medium-sized enterprises, Lena casually says, “I met Kara today.” 

She can practically see rainbows and bulbs light up in her mother’s eyes. 

“Oh?” Lillian smirks at her. “What do you think?” 

Lena only rolls her eyes. “She sprinted from her shop to here to help me with my things and crashed right into the door on her way out,” she explains, leaving the part where she blushed at their handshake and the way her heart fluttered. “You only got the tall part right.”

Lillian quirks an eyebrow. She’s definitely where Lena got it from. “You mean to tell me you didn’t find her good-looking?” 

“She’s clumsy,” Lena says. 

“That’s not a no,” Lillian shoots back. “Admit it. She’s hot. Was she wearing her usual sleeveless tees?” 

“Her usua—” Lena stares at her mother. “Seriously?”

Her mother rolls her eyes. “I’m—what was that you said? Horrifyingly straight?” She waves a hand. “But I’m not blind.”

Lena scrunches her nose. “I’d really rather not talk about this.” 

Lillian stares at her. Lena tries to ignore her piercing look, so used to it already, and instead pours herself some more wine. Lillian smirks. “You _ do _find her good-looking.” 

_ Yes. _ Of fucking course, but Lena will _ never _admit that. “Let me eat in peace,” she says, then takes a long swig of her wine. 

Her mother scoffs. “Your father is rolling in his grave at your denial. Honestly. I thought you were way past this.” 

_ “Mom.” _

“Alright,_ ” _Lillian relents. “I’m just saying. Kara’s a way better choice than that Lisbeth Salande—”

Lena glares, and the rest of Lillian’s sentence withers on her tongue. “Anyway,” she segues. “How was moving in?”

× × 

The first few days at the flower shop are uneventful. Lillian shows her the ropes—which are essentially taking whatever flowers the customer likes, arranging them in a nice tight bouquet, then jotting everything down for inventory. There aren’t many people coming in, so Lena has some time for herself. She managed to settle in upstairs on her first night, the small space much like her undergrad dormitory. Lena diligently tends to her shrubs in the morning, the flowers and buds checked and noted down. Her mother, true to her word, had left Lena to cover for her; Lena wondered what sort of things her mother was up to these days. 

Still, shopsitting isn’t as bad as Lena expected. She has time to read and peruse some of the journals she took home. However, today, she tries to learn more about the whole art of flower arrangement, just so she could say she had a fruitful vacation, her research aside. She cuts a few of the usual white and yellow plumerias from her plants and brings them with her down at the shop. After a quick Google search on her laptop, Lena busies herself with arranging the plumerias and red and yellow calla lilies she had taken from her mother’s inventory in an available vase, lips pursed and eyebrows a furrow of concentration. 

She looks up when the door rings. Her eyes land on Kara, grinning and fresh-faced, her blue eyes bright behind her glasses. 

“Those flowers are beautiful,” Kara says as a greeting. “Hi.”

Lena looks down at the vase and smiles, almost shyly. “They’re called plumerias,” Lena says in response, then looks up at Kara again. She’s wearing a black sleeveless tee, printed with a unicorn puking rainbows. “They’re pretty rare.” 

“They remind me of my mother,” Kara says.

Lena pauses, wanting to ask what that meant. She remembers Lillian saying something about Kara getting flowers regularly and wonders if they were for her mother. Sadness blooms in Lena’s chest before she can stop it—remembering her own biological mother, the scent of plumerias in her wake—but instead of bringing up the topic of mothers long gone, Lena focuses on business. “What can I help you with?” 

“Oh!” Kara pushes her glasses up and shrugs. “I have still life lessons with kids on Tuesdays and I was wondering if you could let me borrow some flowers.” She looks around then grins at Lena. “Um. Not sure if your mom told you about that, but I promise to give them back at the end of the day.”

Lena raises an eyebrow. “End of the day.”

Kara lifts her hands up, as if in defense. “I promise I’ll have them back no later than five.” She beams, a disarming, charming smile that has Lena swallowing thickly. 

“Alright,” she says, then pushes the vase of plumerias and calla lilies to Kara’s direction. “Not later than five,” she adds with a raised eyebrow. 

Kara nods, taking the vase of flowers. “I’ll be back sooner than you know, Lena,” she says, backing away with a smile. She turns to walk out the door and slams into the glass again. 

“Sorry!” Kara calls out as she looks back at Lena. “No damage done. Later!”

Lena laughs and shakes her head. She catches the butterflies in her belly and forces them to stop flitting about. However, Lena can’t help but think of Kara’s charming grin and god, maybe her mother was right. Kara _ is _ soft. 

× × 

Later in the afternoon, Kara returns, paint streaks on her hair and cheeks, vase of flowers in one arm and a rectangular item in hand. She sets both on the counter and grins at Lena. 

“Thank you,” she says. Lena blinks, like she is surprised. 

“You’re welcome,” she replies after a moment, then gestures to Kara’s hair. “You look like you had fun.”

“Yeah.” Kara laughs and runs her hand through her hair. Lena’s gaze flicks to her bicep. The raven-haired woman flushes. “Terrible twos and all that.” 

Lena wants to ask what she meant or who the kids she was teaching were, but she shouldn’t—they weren’t friends, it wasn’t any of her business, so instead, she just nods. She points at the rectangular board. “What’s this?”

“Oh!” Kara flips the board, revealing a painting of the vase of plumerias. “Um. As thank you.”

Lena looks at it. The art style is bright and colorful, familiar, something she has seen somewhere. She smiles at Kara. “Did you paint this?” 

Kara chuckles at that and scratches the back of her neck nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

There was Lena’s answer. “Thank you,” she says, smile still on her face. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know, I know, but it’s the least I could do.” Kara grins. “You can get rid of it. To be honest, I don’t know where Lillian put the other ones.”

“At home,” Lena mutters. She will have to talk to her mother about this intervention. Kara doesn’t seem to hear; she is stepping backwards and waving at Lena. 

“Anyway, um. Thanks again, Lena,” she says, and she doesn’t turn until she is a step away from the door, but at least she doesn’t crash into the glass this time. 

Lena decides not to tell her mother about the whole interaction, already knowing she’ll say something about how Kara is great with kids, and then it’ll become a discussion about grandchildren. However, come dinner, Lillian keeps throwing her loaded glances over their meal of roasted chicken and vegetables. 

“What?” Lena asks after a while, though she has an idea.

“Nothing,” Lillian quickly responds. A pause. “How was your day?”

Lena sighs and looks up at the still life painting of red and yellow roses hanging in the dining room. Beside it is another, this time of tulips, all in the bright, colorful style of Kara’s painting. She drags her gaze to meet her mother’s. “If you’re looking for Kara’s painting, I hung it in the bedroom.”

“I wasn’t,” Lillian immediately defends. She tries to hide her smile but fails. “But that’s good to know. She’s a talented one, isn’t she?”

Lena only continues to eat. 

× × 

One Thursday morning, while Lena does inventory on behalf of her mother, Kara comes in to the shop. She is wearing her usual sunny smile and sleeveless tee, arms free of any tattoos uncharacteristic for a supposed tattoo artist, but definitely what the internet would call _ guns. _

“Good morning,” Kara greets, waving at Lena as she walks up to her. The raven-haired woman puts down the logbook to turn to Kara.

“Good morning,” Lena says, doing her best to keep her gaze on Kara’s face. “What can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I was just looking for Lillian,” Kara says, and Lena tries not to look disappointed at that. She might look confused though, because Kara chuckles and clarifies. “I have some tea for her, from my mom.”

She lifts a paper bag that Lena didn’t notice, probably because her eyes stopped looking further than Kara’s biceps. Lena blinks.

“From your mom,” she parrots,

“Yeah! Here.” Kara grins and hands Lena the paper bag. The other woman has no choice but to accept it. She peers down the paper bag curiously. “Eliza’s wondering when she’ll come over again. Maybe you could come next time!” 

Lena only stares at Kara. The blonde, for her part, seems to backtrack, and she scratches the back of her neck—giving Lena the perfect view of those biceps again. _ God damn it. _

“I mean. Yeah.” Kara laughs awkwardly and Lena thinks she is blushing. “If you wanted. But um, anyway. Tell Lillian I said hi, too.” She gestures quickly towards the door. “I gotta go. Bye!”

Then Kara is walking backwards to the door, giving Lena an eager wave, and Lena already expects it before it happens: Kara turns and crashes face-first onto the glass door. The bell clangs and Kara groans, but a moment later she is yelling that she is _ fine! door’s damage-free! _before pulling open the door and walking out of the shop, muttering under her breath like the very first day they met.

Lena smiles at the space Kara had occupied, still bright and sunny despite her absence—like flowers had bloomed in her wake. 

× × 

Lena puts the paper bag from Kara in front of Lillian as soon as she gets home. The younger Luthor raises an eyebrow at her mother. “Didn’t know you and Kara were close enough to merit random visits from her,” she starts, then gestures at the paper bag. “With gifts from her mother.” 

Lillian shrugs as she peers into the paper bag. She smiles, then looks at Lena pointedly. “I have _ friends, _unlike some people.” 

Lena stares at her mother. She doesn’t like the idea, at all, of her mother being close to the _ mother _of the person she’s trying to get Lena to date. 

_ God. The horror. _

“Eliza visits occasionally, when she and her daughters visit her husband’s grave,” Lillian explains as she takes out the mason jar of what Lena guesses are homemade tea bags. She opens the lid and gives the jar a small sniff. “She invited me last Thanksgiving. You know, when you and your brother were too busy to come visit.”

At that, Lena sighs. “Mom, I told you—”

“I’m not trying to start an argument,” Lillian says. “I’m just saying.” She takes the mason jar and puts it in the cupboard, then looks at Lena again. “Kara’s from a very nice family.”

_ “Mom.” _

× × 

One Saturday, Lillian looks after the shop while Lena busies herself with tending to her plants in the greenhouse. Some of the flowers are already budding, the petunias are already in bloom, and so far, all of her experimental blossoms on track in terms of their expected progress. 

When Lena goes back down to the shop, Lillian excuses herself with some phone call and walks out the front door. Lena sits by the counter and takes one of the journals she has kept there to read. 

It’s only a minute later that the bell chimes. Lena looks up, greeting ready on her tongue, but it dies on her throat as her gaze settle on Kara. 

At this point, Lena wouldn’t be surprised if her mother knows of Kara’s entire schedule. She has been in this street for almost two years now, after all. 

Lena clears her throat and smiles as Kara comes up to the counter. 

“Good morning, Lena,” Kara greets, eyes bright behind her glasses. Her hair is slicked back and she isn’t wearing her usual sleeveless tee; instead, she’s wearing a crisp white polka dot dress shirt, tucked nicely in dark navy slacks. Like she is going to a date or something. Lena ignores the hint of something very much akin to jealousy in the pit of her stomach at the thought. 

“Morning, Kara,” Lena greets back with what she hopes looks like a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I need flowers,” Kara says, then laughs and pushes up her glasses in what seems like a nervous gesture. “I mean, I would like s—”

The opening of the door and the ringing of the bell signaling another customer interrupts her. A tall, broad-shouldered man comes barging in, breathless in a shirt that looks like he had been thrown water at. 

“Hello,” Lena greets stiffly. She forces herself to smile, remembering this was a _ customer. _“How can I—”

“I need to win my girl,” the man says, walking up to the counter. 

“Okay,” Lena blinks. She glances at Kara, who smiles in understanding. Lena bites her lip to stop herself from smiling back like a fool. She turns to the man. “I… What do you want?”

The man sighs and looks around, before looking back at Lena. “Can you recommend me anything?” 

Shit. “Um. Red roses are… classic?” Lena points to the bundle of red flowers by the side. The man looks at them, then frowns. 

He opens his mouth to talk, but before he could, Kara is patting his shoulder. She chuckles and gestures to hydrangeas. “Hydrangeas,” she says simply. “Purple ones mean you’re sorry.” 

The man looks at the bunch with a sigh. Kara winks at Lena conspiratorially and it nearly makes the raven-haired woman’s knees buckle, but she manages to keep herself up. The man agrees with the choice, and with a quick recollection of common color swatches and filler flowers she Googled the nights before, Lena picks some white roses and eucalyptus baby blue to finish the bouquet. She wraps it up and hands it to the man, and he pays with a hurried thanks, then he is out of the shop as quickly as he came. 

Lena looks at Kara, impressed. “You sure know your flowers.”

Kara chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corner with happiness. _ How dare she be so… so charming? _“For a florist, you don’t know what your flowers mean,” she points out. 

Lena shrugs. “I’m a bio-engineer with focus on flora. Ask me how a flower can change color in a day and I can answer you but don’t ask me which flower can change your lady’s mind.” 

“Flowers can change color in a day?” Kara asks, genuine wonder in her voice. 

Lena blinks and nods. 

“Cool.” A beat. “Do you have any of those?” 

“You…” Lena licks her lips. “You want to see flowers that change colors?” 

Kara nods. “Yeah.” She looks around the shop, eagerness in those bright eyes. 

“Um.” Lena gestures up. “They’re in the greenhouse upstairs.” 

× × 

She shouldn’t have left the shop unattended, really, but Kara had pouted and Lena found it so easy to walk to the door and flip the sign to _ Closed, _and then they were taking the steep stairs up to the rooftop. The greenhouse isn’t any bigger than the shop, but it has taller ceilings, mostly covered by tall plants that Lillian kept. Among them are the flowering plants Lena had brought with her. 

“Lillian hosted here when she opened the shop,” Kara shares, looking around the place. “Not like a _ party _party though,” she adds quickly, laughing. “More like a... mid-afternoon tea party, mixer kind of thing.”

Lena remembers one point two years ago when her mother _ insisted _she visit, but Lena hadn’t been able to come due to schedule conflicts. 

“Okay. Um.” Lena suddenly feels anxious, but she gestures to the neat row of vases in front of them. “I just recently moved my plants here because—” Lena purses her lips. She _ isn’t _going to tell Kara it’s because her mother wants them to hook up. “Research.” It’s not a lie. “Doctoral dissertation.” 

Kara whistles in amazement. Lena tries not to look at her too much. Instead, she focuses on her plants, brushing her fingers on the green and almost-violet leaves.

“On what?” Kara asks.

“Well. I've been working on gene recognition and transfer in plants in recent years, but for these I'm enhancing climate adaptation and speed of growth.” Lena clears her throat and tries to think if she had uttered any jargon or nerd speak. “Essentially just testing genetic modifications.” She turns to Kara just in time to see her nod, but also notices that she is staring rather intently at Lena. 

Lena feels her cheeks warm.

“And the multi-colored flowers?” Kara asks, gesturing at the various colors of petunias and the plumeria buds of reds, yellows, and pinks. 

Lena shrugs and hopes her blush isn't too obvious. “A hobby.” 

Kara grins and looks around like its her first time seeing flowers. Lena has never dwelled on the aesthetic side of biotechnology in flora, just that they are the most visible in terms of changes she can create, but she supposes they are in fact, beautiful. 

When Kara’s in the midst of them though…

_ Shut up. _

“Wait a sec,” Kara blurts out, and Lena glances at her to see what she is looking at. The blonde walks to the small vase near the corner. A rose plant, except blooming in it are blue flowers. “Are these… Blue roses?” She asks, those bright eyes on Lena again, and the raven-haired woman desperately hopes she isn’t blushing. 

“Yeah,” Lena replies. 

Kara _ laughing _isn’t the reaction she expected. 

“What’s so funny?” Lena asks.

“No, nothing, sorry,” Kara instantly apologizes. She fidgets with her glasses and sighs, looking fondly at the roses before meeting Lena’s gaze. Lena swallows at the intensity in her blue eyes. “You know what blue roses mean?” 

“You know I don’t,” Lena answers. 

Kara shakes her head, smiling. “Blue flowers mean love at first sight,” she says softly, and Lena feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest. 

_ Calm down. _

“And blue roses defy the supposed impossibility of things,” Kara adds. She shrugs. “Because, you know—” 

“Roses don’t have the gene for the color blue,” Lena supplies.

Kara sighs. “Yeah.” She shoves her hands into her pants pockets and looks back at the blue roses. “That’s cool. That you managed to do that.” 

Lena doesn’t exactly know what to say to that, so she doesn’t say anything. Kara looks like she is thinking of something to say, too, but a familiar guitar riff rings from her pocket before she can speak. She fishes out her phone and quickly silences it, then looks at Lena apologetically. 

“It’s my sister. I have to go.” Kara smiles. Lena feels less disappointed about her leaving because of it. “Thanks for letting me see your flowers.” 

Lena smiles. “No problem.”

Kara makes her way to the stairs, muttering into her phone. Lena looks at the blue roses in the corner and thinks about what Kara said, about love at first sight, and how Lena felt like butterflies came alive in her chest when she spoke of it. 

She turns to make her way downstairs. Just as she does, she hears footsteps making their way up, and then Kara is back at the top of the staircase.

“Sorry,” she says with a sigh. “I’m- Um, I meant to get flowers when I came in and I totally got distracted?” 

Lena laughs, the beating butterflies in her chest settling down in the flowers of her laughter. “Right. What do you need?” 

“Sunflowers and carnations,” Kara says. “They’re, um. For my parents.” 

Lena wants to ask—she wants to know, of course, because who is Eliza, then? But instead, she only nods, and she walks with Kara back down to the shop. She arranges the flowers as Kara waits, and after a few minutes, the blonde speaks. 

“My biological parents died when I was thirteen,” she says, and before Lena can say sorry, Kara is smiling and shaking her head. “Eliza’s my adoptive mom. I have an adoptive sister, Alex. We go to the cemetery together for my parents and her dad, Jeremiah. She brings him whiskey.” She laughs. After a while, she falls quiet again. “I just don’t want to forget them, you know? So we go there at least once a month to visit.” 

Lena nods. “The plumerias upstairs are for my mom. I remember she always had tinctures with plumerias,” she says. A soft sigh. She feels guilty sometimes, but Lillian once said she understands. “Lillian’s my adoptive mother. I love her, I do,” Lena smiles, “but I don’t want to forget about my mother too.” 

They share a look of understanding. Lena hands the flowers to Kara. “If we don’t remember them, who will, right?” Lena continues.

She refuses Kara’s payment, despite the blonde’s insistence, and when her phone rings with the opening to _ Sweet Child of Mine _once more, Lena knows she’s won.

“Fine,” Kara chuckles, walking backwards to the door. “But your first tattoo in my shop is on the house, alright?”

“Okay, but the door, please,” Lena laughs, and Kara grins brightly, avoiding the glass this time as she walks out of the shop.

× × 

Lena makes good on Kara’s offer come next Saturday. She tells her mother that she can’t watch the shop, and Lillian looks on curiously, but Lena tries not to give into her mother’s nosiness. She realizes it’s the first time she has visited Kara’s tattoo parlor when she pushes the door open and steps into the shop.

It’s definitely larger than the flower shop. To the right of the door is a partition to what Lena guesses is the workspace. In the middle of it is a reclining chair beside a stool, and near them is a rolling cart of what looks like equipment. The shop is warmly lit. There are a couple of paintings on the walls, the bright brushstrokes of Kara’s work but not of flowers this time—cityscapes instead, a view that looks like the same one in different times of the day. There are also photos of Kara and a woman who Lena assumes is Alex, along with others of people showing off their tattoos—presumably clients.

“Lena!” 

Lena turns to the source of the voice and finds Kara, blonde hair messy, eyes and smile bright like always. “Hey,” Lena greets with a small wave. Of course she notices the sleeveless tee Kara is wearing, _ aliens are real _written across it. Lena ignores the way Kara’s bicep flexes as she fiddles with her glasses. “I was wondering if your offer was still stands.” 

Kara beams, like she was waiting for those words. “Of course,” she says. “Now?”

Lena tilts her head. “If you’re free?” 

“Sure! Um, just take a seat while I get ready,” Kara says. She gestures to the reclining chair then heads to a cupboard on one side of the wall. “Do you have an idea of what you want to get?” 

Lena turns to her as she sits. “Yeah. I have a picture, actually.” She fishes her phone from her pocket. “I just want a simple black one, of plumerias.” 

Kara moving to the table and getting ready. 

“Is this your first?”

“No. I already have one.” Lena bit her lip and thought about the _ wildflower _ on her rib, gotten one drunk night with Sam in some city she can’t remember. There was a vague memory of laughter, and afterwards it was the sting of a fresh tattoo on her left side and the searing headache of a hangover. It’s weird, how it doesn’t hurt anymore when she knows it should. It’s been two years, _ but still. _“On my left rib.” 

Kara nods. “Can I see?” 

“Um.” Lena blinks. “Sure.” She leans back a little and takes the hem of her off-shoulder shirt, carefully lifting it just below the band of her black bra, and shows the tattoo to Kara. She thinks she sees recognition in Kara’s eyes, but isn’t sure. Maybe it’s surprise from the placement of the tattoo. 

“Wildflower?” Kara asks, dragging her gaze from Lena’s ink to her green eyes. 

Lena shrugs. “It’s a poem.” She pauses and lowers her shirt. “_ Hearts Like Wildflowers, _by Nikita Gill.” 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Kara assures softly. She gestures for Lena’s phone. “Can I have the photo?” 

But that’s the thing: Lena wants to tell her about it. She hands Kara her phone. “I got it three, four years ago.” 

Kara hums in response. She puts the phone on a nearby table, then takes a pen and turns to Lena again. “Where do you want it?” 

“My left shoulder,” Lena says. She turns her back to Kara and pushes aside her shirt to reveal where she wants to get inked. She hears Kara take a deep breath before sighing, but before Lena can glance back at her, Kara speaks again.

“Okay. I’ll just start with the sketch, alright?” The blonde says. Lena nods, and after a few minutes she feels Kara’s touch on her shoulder. Not bare skin though. Gloves, she guesses. 

“Where did you get your tattoo?” Kara asks. Her voice is soft, like she didn’t entirely mean for Lena to hear her. 

“I forgot where, to be honest. I was out with my then—” She bit her lip. “My then girlfriend. We were drunk, celebrating my graduation. Took buses and found ourselves somewhere and went to the first tattoo shop we saw.” 

“Why _ wildflower _?” 

Lena shrugs, but before Kara can say that she doesn’t have to tell her about it _again, _she continues. “Wildflowers are the most resilient, at least in terms of—” She cuts herself off. This isn't the time to go scientific. “She said I reminded her of the poem, and that I should get it, to remind myself how… resilient I am.” 

Kara is quiet for a while. “Can I… ask what happened to the two of you?” 

“Life,” Lena answers easily, surprised by how quickly she says it. She stares at her hands while she feels the pen against her skin. She remembers how things began to change with Sam after a while—like a flower that grew, bloomed, and wilted. Like their relationship just naturally ran its course. It’s sad when she thinks about it, but she remembers Sam fondly and the way she smiled and held Lena on their last day like they could still be good friends. They still check with each other here and there, but with Sam busy with life and work in Metropolis, it was also only natural they drift apart even as friends. “Things change. Minds and hearts do.”

The blonde pauses and hums. “But you loved her?” 

Lena tries not to shrug. “I did,” she says with a whisper. “I think a part of me still does.” 

“Oh. That’s…” Kara trails off. Lena wants to know what she wanted to say, but Kara continues: “I think that’s good. Here.” She takes a quick snap with Lena’s camera and shows her the photo. 

“That looks good,” Lena says with an almost surprised smile. It’s like the photo of a pair of plumerias Lena showed her but so much more delicate, like Kara drew on petals. Somehow, a part of her didn’t quite believe Kara was indeed an artist, despite the art classes with kids, the paint streaks on her skin, the paintings she now knows are hers, or the fact that she owned a tattoo shop. To see is to believe, after all. 

“You sound surprised,” Kara laughs, standing to pull another rolling tray with her equipment. Lena laughs and tries to deny it, but Kara only grins. “I’m kidding. Anyway, let’s start then. This might take an hour or so.”

Then, the silence between them is disrupted by the sound of the tattoo machine, sharp and almost violent. Lena flinches; Kara anchors her, touch firm but gentle despite the latex of her gloves. Lena bites her lip, waiting for the inevitable sting, but Kara’s soft _ here we go _ drowns it out, if only for a moment. Lena clenches her fists on her lap, but she probably tenses too much because Kara pauses, tells Lena to relax, and waits for Lena to breathe out her tension before continuing. A few moments pass, filled only with the buzzing of the machine, while Lena stares at the art on the walls. After her third sweep of the photos showcasing Kara’s designs, Lena speaks. 

“How come you don’t have tattoos?” She asks in an almost-whisper. She thinks Kara doesn’t hear her over the hum of the machine, but the blonde chuckles. 

“How do you know I don’t have tattoos?” Kara quips as she pauses, then continues with her task. 

Lena remembers not to shrug and instead makes a noncommittal sound. “Your arms are bare.” 

Kara chuckles again. “I do have a tattoo. Just one. Here.” Then she pauses, turns off the machine, and extends her left arm just enough to show Lena the inside of her bicep—_ flexes _ , god, and Lena tries her hardest not to drool. The tattoo reads _ stronger together _ in a fine print, much like a typewriter’s. Kara returns to her task with a small chuckle. “It was kind of our family motto. Um, by family I mean my biological parents.” Kara pauses for a moment; Lena can’t see her, but she hears Kara’s smile when she continues to speak. “Whatever the problem or the situation was, we were always _ stronger together. _” 

Lena only nods. She wants to ask, of course. As much as she wants Kara to know more about her, she’s also curious—curious about her neighbor across the street, curious of Kara, who knows flowers and paints with kids, a tattoo artist with barely any ink on her skin, who Lena thinks is gorgeous and charming if she is being honest with herself. What was the point though? Getting to know Kara might make her mother think it’s fine to meddle with her love life, and god knows Lena doesn't need that—though when did she ever let such things matter? 

Besides, it’s going to be _ fine, _she tells herself. She’s had gorgeous friends. Delphine is hot and blonde and Lena never had a crush on her. Carol Danvers from astrophysics was blonde, hot, and had arms to die for, but Lena had never felt the need to know how it felt to be held in said arms. 

Except neither of them quite had the same charm as Kara. None of the friends she knows smiled like the sun like Kara did. None of them had the pull as Kara did. 

Lena tries not to think so blatantly about Kara with the woman _ right there _behind her, except with nothing else to think about, all she could notice was the sting on her left shoulder blade. She starts to mentally list the scientific names of the plants she has in the greenhouse, then lists them in alphabetic order. After a long while—before Lena could begin to recite the numerous subspecies of her plants, Kara speaks again. 

“By any chance,” she says, then pauses for a second to work on Lena’s tattoo before speaking again. “Was your girlfriend’s name Sam?” 

Thank god Kara stopped working when she spoke, because Lena almost whipped around to look at her. “How did you- I never said her name. ” Lena blinks owlishly and blushes scarlet as she looks back to the wall. Had she said Sam’s name when she told their story? 

She can almost hear Kara’s smile as she replies. “I _ knew _you were too wasted back then,” she says, her reply heard only just above the sound of the machine as she returns to her task. Lena bites her lip and fights back the urge to look at Kara. “Rib tattoos are the most painful but you barely flinched.” 

Lena finally gives in, looking sideways, enough to see Kara in her periphery. She could _ see _the blonde smile even as she has all her focus on working on Lena’s tattoo. 

“Just so you know, that was Metropolis.” Kara chuckles. “And you were wasted, but you managed to recite the poem while I was working on you.”

Lena swallows thickly and tries her hardest to remember whatever Kara’s talking about, but she can’t. Kara is right; she was wasted that night. What Lena can remember clearly is the splitting headache the day after. “That’s your handwriting, “ she says dumbly, disbelief on her voice. That she knows, because Sam told her that it wasn’t hers, and clearly it isn’t her own. “On my skin.”

Kara grins. “Yup.” 

Lena blinks. She doesn’t _ fucking _ remember. “What brings you _ here?” _

“I got here first so definitely not following you,” Kara jokes. Lena makes a small sound the blonde anticipated somehow, pausing in working on her shoulder blade. “I grew up here, “ Kara continues. “But I Iived in Metropolis for my then-girlfriend, but managed to stay a few more months after we broke up.” She lets out a soft laugh, and Lena isn’t sure if she stopped breathing then or a few words before that. “It was actually my last night when you came stumbling into the shop.”

Lena lets out a soft breath—a sigh of disbelief, really, because if Kara is telling the truth, then the world is so much smaller than she thought. 

Kara continues, her voice soft above the buzzing of her equipment. “Kind of fell back in love with National City and never wanted to leave again, so I set up shop here.” She pauses, nothing but the sound of the machine for a few seconds. Lena can hear Kara’s smile when she speaks again. “And here we both are.”

Lena would have laughed, if she wasn’t so caught up in Kara’s words. Who would’ve thought, after all? She tries, yet again, to remember Kara, but she can barely remember that night at all. 

“Here we both are,” Lena murmurs. 

They fall into silence yet again. Lena spends the minutes between trying to remember, to no avail, and she almost jumps when Kara turns off the machine and says that she’s done. Lena only nods. She stays seated, even while Kara tidies up and hands her a pamphlet. 

“At least you’re sober enough this time to listen to aftercare,” Kara laughs, the corner of her eyes crinkling with amusement. 

Lena playfully rolls her eyes but accepts the offered piece of paper, imagining the warmth from Kara’s fingers in the fleeting moment they were close to her own. “Hey, I did manage to take care of it, didn’t I?” Lena laughs and glances at the pamphlet. Some aftercare guidelines. As she stares at it, she realizes how familiar it looks. Trifold, minimalist, and neat, bearing the name of the shop at the back, some instructions and images inside that Lena is sure had been a source of laughter for her and Sam, once upon a time. 

It hits Lena like a bag of bricks. She has the same pamphlet sitting in the box she has held onto for two years. It contains things from Sam that she can’t really give back: Old arcade cards, faded movie tickets, letters, photo booth print-outs, some postgrad brochures from Metropolis, a pamphlet on tattoo aftercare that bore the name _ Argo’s Inks. _

Instinctively, Lena knows Kara hasn’t lied about working on her first tattoo. She knows Lillian isn't _ that _ nosy, that she didn't tell Kara of Lena’s entire love life, but somehow, she didn’t quite really believe Kara had met her once, years ago, like she hadn’t really believed she was an artist until she had drawn on her skin. She couldn’t remember that night, after all, only the day after when Sam had handed her the pamphlet and reminded Lena that _ yes, you did get a tattoo. _

It’s curious, how Lena had always thought that memory would forever be associated with Sam—hidden away in a corner of her mind only ever revisited every once in a while because the brain always makes new memories but can never quite overwrite those—and yet here was Kara, pushing past the earth Lena had covered those memories with like a plant in bloom. 

Warmth blossoms in Lena’s chest as she swallows, clutches the pamphlet in her hands, and finally turns to Kara. “Well. I don’t owe you anything, do I?” 

Kara takes a moment to reply as she fixes—or attempts to fix—some boxes on her equipment table. She takes a visibly shuddering breath and looks at Lena like she is terrified. “Not really,” Kara starts. She fiddles with her glasses, bites her lip, then takes another breath before finally spitting the words out like she wants to rip the band-aid off—or like she’s diving off a cliff headfirst into terrifying heights where the water is unseen, unknown, probably nonexistent. “But, um. I’d appreciate it if you let me take you out to dinner?”

Lena blinks. “What?”

Kara sighs again, but tries to be nonchalant as she shrugs. She shoves her hands into her jeans and meets Lena’s gaze. “Look, Lena, I… A couple of years ago when you came into my shop, all drunk and high on laughter, I was pretty sure it was fate.” She lets out a soft, listless laugh. “But then Sam kissed you and I never saw you again. And yet here you are,” she says, waving her hands at Lena. “I’m going to be honest and say that I’ve been wondering when—no, I’ve been _ hoping _to see you again. And I don’t know if it’s fate that brought you back here in my shop—”

“My mother, actually, ” Lena mutters under her breath. Kara seems to hear it though because she laughs and looks at Lena like she is a dream. Lena remembers the first time they met—rather, the time they met _ again _, how Kara had sprinted across the street to help her out with her things. 

“You don’t even remember me even if I’ve quite literally left a mark on you,” Kara says, traces of laughter in her voice before she trails off, hopeful and yet sounding so hopeless at the same time. “But Lena, god, you left a mark on me too, and I don’t want you walking out that door again without finding out if I have a chance this time.” Kara sighs. “Do I?”

(There was a seed that had grown into a plant that bloomed so beautifully, even after almost 32,000 years of being buried below permafrost—_ Silene stenophylla, _or narrowed-leaf campion. Though Lena never really found interest in the semantics of flowers, focused only on how she could benefit humanity through biotechnology, she remembers the campion because Dr. Isley had this fond look in her eyes while she told them about it, like she was remembering a memory from long ago. 

“Campion,” Dr. Isley had said. “The white ones mean _ let’s meet at dusk,” _ with a smile that told of secrets, “and the red ones mean _ I should like to know you better.” _

Lena still isn’t interested that much in the meanings of flowers, but she remembers Kara’s wonder about the blue rose that bloomed in the greenhouse and the impossibility of it all, and she can’t help but wonder _ what if, _she had remembered. She remembers Kara’s sigh when she mentioned a part of her always loving Sam, like the hope she held onto had vanished, yet she still dove into uncertainty like she wasn’t concerned about the fall—though her eyes while she waited in the eternity between seconds said otherwise.)

Lena smiles and tilts her head, watches hope and the sun shine through Kara’s own smile like she finally realizes that her decision to jump off the cliff turned out to be magical because she's flying—or rather, because Lena had caught her. “Meet me at dusk then,” Lena says, “and take me to the place you love most in National City.”

× × 

Almost half an hour before Lena expects Kara to come meet her, the blonde comes knocking on the shop door despite the _ Open _sign. Lena laughs and opens the door for her. Kara changed from her sleeveless tee to a black gingham dress shirt, tucked neatly in her pants, her sleeves perfectly rolled just above her elbows. She is wearing sneakers too, and Lena is pretty sure this is the most she has seen Kara covered. 

“Hey,” Lena greets, amused. She steps aside and lets Kara in. She feels a little underdressed; she changed into jeans with a black blouse that fit her better, just to cover the wrap on her shoulder. The front of her blouse dipped low enough to tease, and the way Kara’s gaze flicks down for a fleeting second before she looks up at Lena’s face with a soft blush feels like delicious vindication.

“How’s your tattoo?” Kara says as a greeting, before laughing. “Sorry. You were literally just at the shop hours ago.” 

“It’s… fine,” Lena responds with a small smile. She feels giddy, fully knowing the reason Kara is here, and though she normally wouldn’t agree with her mother—mostly to annoy her—Lillian is right, Lena hasn’t really dated in a while. “I thought we were meeting a bit later?”"

“Oh, I know, but um,” Kara pauses and adjusts her glasses before gesturing behind her. “I was hoping we could go early because what I want to show you is a bit time-sensitive.”

Lena raises a curious eyebrow, but she does reach for her purse behind the counter. “Do tell.”

Kara looks down and laughs, almost nervously. “I’m already going to _ show, _not tell.”

“Alright,” Lena agrees, gesturing to the door. “Lead the way then.”

Kara rolls her eyes playfully but goes ahead. Lena follows her, flips the sign to _ Closed, _then locks the door to the shop. Kara waits for her and they start walking down the sidewalk. Lena hasn’t explored the city much, has chosen to stay in the shop instead and read during her free time, so she has no idea at all where Kara is taking her.

“You know, I’d usually give my date flowers,” Kara says softly, after a minute or two of walking. She grins at Lena, that charming little smile, and Lena feels her heart flip. “But, you know.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Lena assures. She didn’t even get her anything either, caught up in the disbelief of Kara asking her out. And it’s their first date—they will have chances to give each other something in the future, should things go well. 

Lena hopes they do. 

They arrive at a row of brownstone houses a short while later. Lena looks around, confused, especially when Kara brings out a key to open the door to #42. All this time, Lena thought Kara lived on the floor above her tattoo shop. She blushes when she realizes Kara is taking her home. For their first date. 

“Okay,” Kara starts, pushing open the door to let Lena in first. She walks in, and Kara follows her, closing the door with a quiet click. “I discovered this place a year or so ago. The owner was a client of mine, Sherlock, and, well, you’ll see.” 

Kara heads to the stairs. Lena doesn’t say anything, just follows her, though a quick look around the living area she can see gives her the sense that this place doesn’t feel like Kara, somehow—then again, they are only getting to know each other. She follows Kara to the second floor, then the third, and just when Lena thinks they will be turning to the bedroom, Kara unlocks another door, one that leads up. 

“Where are we going?” Lena finally asks, confused now more than anything. She doesn’t quite know what to expect now. 

Kara turns to her with an apologetic grin. “We’re here,” she says, then steps aside to let Lena go first. When she hesitates, Kara chuckles. “I promise it’s completely safe.”

Lena sighs. “Just so you know, I totally thought we were going to your bedroom because that’s your favorite place,” she mutters as she walks up the final few steps. She hears Kara laugh behind her, and the soft melody of it becomes almost magical as Lena’s eyes take in the view. 

She stands on the rooftop, the heart of National City just ahead, tall buildings silhouetted by the sinking sun that soaked everything in its warm glow. It’s absolutely breathtaking; their arrival was perfect, and Lena realizes that this is what Kara meant when she said what she wanted to show her was time sensitive. Belatedly, it also dawns on her that this view is familiar.

“This is the skyline on your paintings,” Lena whispers. When she turns to look at Kara, she finds that the blonde is already looking at her, smile on her lips like Lena is the sun herself. She freezes when she catches Lena’s gaze and whips her attention to the setting sun like she hadn’t just been caught staring. The color on her cheeks is definitely not from the sunset, Lena concludes.

“Um. Yeah,” Kara mumbles, then clears her throat. Lena finds herself smiling, more entranced now with the way the shadows fall on Kara’s features than the view ahead. Kara turns to look at her after a while—probably thinking Lena had already looked away.

Their gazes meet, and they laugh. They laugh, skins warm from the sun and cheeks flushed pink with affection blooming from their chests.

“This is the part of the city I love most,” Kara says after a while, when their laughter has subsided but there remains traces of joy in her voice. She sighs, almost dreamily, glances over the skyline before looking back at Lena, stars in her eyes. “And another reason to love it, I suppose.”

× × 

Lena unlocks the door to the flower shop and walks in smiling, several hours after her _ date _ with Kara. The thought makes butterflies come alive in her belly. It had been a beautiful night, no matter how cheesy it sounded; she thought the night was over when the sun had set, but Mr. Holmes apparently let Kara borrow the rooftop for the night. There was a small picnic set-up on the side that Lena didn’t notice, a basket full of food Kara said Alex helped her cook, along with a delicious bottle of wine they shared until the stars came out. 

They spent a good few hours on the rooftop. Kara introduced Lena to the bees Sherlock kept on the roof—a new species he bred, Kara shared, before asking about Lena’s flowers in the greenhouse. Lena was worried about boring Kara to death if she talked about her research, but realized later that she was worried for nothing, because Kara listened to her like she held all the knowledge in the world. When Lena felt like she had said everything—had talked too much—she asked Kara about the kids she taught, about Eliza and Alex, about National City, about _ her, _and Kara told Lena of everything like they had so many years to catch up on. 

It was almost midnight when they decided it was too late and that they should go home. Lena confirmed with a laugh that the brownstone was _ not _ Kara’s house. 

“To be fair, I do love my bed,” Kara laughed. “Not fitting for a first date though, is it?”

Lena had another answer to that, of course, and Kara obviously knew of it, because they shared a moment of silence before bursting out into laughter despite their flushed cheeks. 

“Okay, but since you picked me up, it’s only fair drop you home,” Lena offered. Kara said otherwise but Lena insisted, until the blonde relented. 

Lena looks out the glass door to make sure Kara is still there where Lena left her—standing in front of her own shop, grinning that charming little grin, illuminated by light from inside and the neon of _ Argo’s Inks _ above her. She is waiting for Lena to go in and turn the lights off at the shop before she goes inside—a compromise of sorts. Lena gives her a final wave and a breathless smile, a good night greeting, then turns on her heel.

She almost jumps when she finds Lillian quietly sipping tea behind the counter, a book in her hand. Lena breathes out in relief and immediately tries to put on a neutral expression.

“Mother,” Lena greets.

Lillian never looks up from her book. “Hello, Lena,” she says flatly, then sips her tea again. “Where have you been?”

The younger Luthor narrows her eyes at her mother. She has _ never _asked her about her whereabouts. Ever. She’s a fucking adult, for god’s sake. Only then does Lena realize Lillian is reading her book upside down. 

“Nowhere,” she says pointedly. She tries to head upstairs but Lillian looks at her, eyebrow raised. Lena rolls her eyes. “What?”

“Well?” Lillian prompts, practically _ demands. _

Lena stares at her mother. “It’s just a d—”

“Will there be a next one?” Lillian interrupts. 

Lena stares in disbelief before huffing. “Yeah,” she grumbles. “This weekend.”

“Great,” Lillian beams and drops the pretense of reading. “I’ll take care of the shop then. You can have the entire weekend off.” 

“Mom—”

“If you want, I can have the cabin ready for you and K—”

_ “Mom, ” _ Lena tries again. 

“I’m just saying, ” Lillian defends, keeping her eyes on Lena even as she picks her book up again, still upside down. 

“Yeah, well, say it more quietly,” Lena mutters. There’s a pause, and she thinks she can see the way Lillian leans into the suspense. “But I’ll take the offer for the cabin.”

Lillian grins, satisfied, and for once, Lena lets her gloat as a smile blooms on her face at the thought of seeing Kara again. 

× × 


End file.
